


Is This Love Or Hatred?

by Casimir



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Branding, Breeding Bench, Burnish is a country, Cock Warming, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gangbang, M/M, Oral Sex, Promare are just a mutation AU, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery AU, Spitroasting, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casimir/pseuds/Casimir
Summary: A hundred years ago, the Burnish evolved. Fearing prosecution they took their friends and family and evacuated. Their new country closed it’s boarders. Their new king believes the world should be under their feet- starting with Promepolis.Galo is a rebel, fighting against the tyranny of the Burnish people. His rebellion has already failed. Now he has to learn how to survive as a pet before he goes crazy or, worse, submits to their rule.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So when I’m in a bad place mentally I write slavery fic :V it’s usually about my fursona but this time I couldn’t resist making it about Galo, so I’m repurposing a few ideas. I hope you enjoy watching Galo break as much as I enjoy writing it ahahaha

“Mad Burnish bastard!”

Galo spat with such ferocity that even Aina looked at him with shock. Their little tiny freedom fighter cell was bound on their knees in front of the most ridiculously dressed up enemy generals they’d ever seen. Usually the invaders were just clad in black leather, their visored helmets preventing anyone from seeing their faces as they burnt down whatever homes were in their way. The fires around them were still smoldering that unnatural magenta-blue from where they’d attacked. They’d known exactly what house the fugitives were hiding in; exactly where the escape route would be. Galo trembled with rage at the thought of it.

A huge, black metal boot connected with his side in a vicious kick. It threw him to the ground in a cloud of ash and dirt. Clawed fingers dragged him up by his neck while their captors snarled something in a language that none of them could speak. Instead, Galo just grit his teeth and stared down the giant grinning face with all the anger he could muster in his skinny body. They were all running on fumes. It had been years since they had had a proper meal. Too busy fleeing for their lives across the country that they’d once called home. Once the Burnish had lowered the borders of their country it had all been over. After a hundred years the insular, private country had suddenly turned their superior military might on their nearest neighbour.

No one had come to rescue them.

Burning Rescue were thrown into separate vehicles. From behind the bars Galo could see the village they had taken shelter in become little more than ash on the wind. His fists shook from where they were clenched tightly, knuckles turning white from his grip. 

It took hours before the convoy stopped. Miles and miles of flat, featureless desert stretched out around them. Already the heat was making him sweat. He was almost glad that the battle with the Burnish had seared away most of his clothes. Just the ragged remains of his pants were left. When the doors were flung open, he was prepared. Galo swung his shackled hands in the direction of the closest masked face but a vicious wall of yellow fire sprung up around him before he could even make contact with it.

More and more of the armoured Burnish poured into the tiny prison van until he was overwhelmed with sheer numbers. The fire never seemed to touch them. Grabbing hands pinned him to the hot metal, tight fingers squeezing uncomfortably, and a strange visor was locked in place over his head. All sight and sound were wiped out immediately, leaving only the sensation of hands on his body. When he was allowed his freedom again, he found that it was only half of it as the shackles had been bound to something on the floor. Galo was stuck on his knees with nothing to orient himself with. Just the endless darkness and his own thoughts.

Sleep didn’t come easy, the rumbling and bouncing of the truck along with the visor meant that Galo was constantly on the alert. Even still he found himself drifting. The adrenaline and energy from the fight had drained away and left him feverish and clammy cold. Every shudder was the potential that the van would stop, jerking him out of fitful dreams and back to waking. He hadn’t slept properly for years but the tension was too much. It was hard to even stay truly angry. It felt like the emotions that were so strong just hours ago had leached from his body. Everything was over. Everything that they’d fought so hard and so long for would be reduced to ashes.

Somewhere in the dead zone between asleep and awake, the vehicle stopped moving. Galo jerked up, briefly forgetting that he was chained to the floor and jarring his arms uncomfortably. With no sound and no hearing he couldn’t tell when the doors were thrown open but the hands on him again were a good indicator. He threw himself into the fight again, desperately thrashing against the leather clad hands. All he had to do was hit one, just one, and he felt in his heart that he’d be able to break free. But once more, numbers were against him. The metal of the van was painful against his chin and body as they dragged him from it. The rough hewn stone of whatever ground he hit was worse. Disoriented, he was hauled back and forth until a chain was shackled to his wrists again and his arms were wrenched painfully upwards. Still he kicked and thrashed and spat curses at whatever gods the Burnish worshipped.

The hands left him alone.

The time continued to tick.

He must have been left in some dungeon, he thought. His bare feet were on wood. It felt finished, not the splintery warped stuff that was common in his hometown. The chains that hung from his manacles were strong or else they would have shattered under his aggression, and the manacles themselves covered his entire hands. Galo tested his bonds as hard as he dared. When he wasn’t admonished for it by his captors, he pulled even harder. Over and over he pulled and struggled but the bindings refused to budge. All he succeeded in doing was making his shoulders and wrists ache with the strain. Hungry and thirsty and sore, he let himself slump against the wall. He’d fight when they came for him. That much, Galo was sure of.

His chance to fight back didn’t quite come as he had expected, however. Galo was roused awake by the visor blocking his hearing and vision being removed. He had lurched bodily towards one of his captors but was stopped in his tracks by the tip of a patterned sword being held against his Adam’s apple. When he swallowed his throat bobbed, and the edge drew a tiny trickle of blood. His aggressor was a short man with pale blond hair and fiery eyes. Galo had never seen someone look at him as if he was a piece of meat before. A shiver ran down his arms as the man bit his plump lip in open lust.

Now that Galo wasn’t openly fighting back, the sword was removed from his neck. It disappeared in a flash of brilliant sparks into the Burnish’s hand. Figures that he would have something like that, instead of a real steel sword. It was almost cheating in Galo’s opinion. Something was barked in the harsh language of the Burnish that he didn’t understand, something that made the two men on either side of him spin him face first against the wall and pin him there. Whatever was happening, he knew he didn’t want it. Galo began to thrash and struggle again, but the two men shifted and in their place were the two armoured generals that had attacked Burning Rescue’s hideout. One broad shouldered and the other lithe; but both towered above him in their living armour. Galo’s escape attempt was foiled.

A third metal hand pressed his face against the wall. Something hot was approaching the back of his neck. He could feel the searing heat even from a distance away. Galo grit his teeth against the pain that he knew was coming. There was nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to run. No way to avoid the press of the brand against his skin. It forced a shout from his throat and tears to bead in the corners of his eyes. It was a pain unlike being burned by a natural fire, concentrated against the tiny patch of skin where his neck and his back met. He couldn’t even tell what sort of shape they were branding him with through the pain. When the heat was removed, he thought finally. Finally it’s over.

When he heard the tattoo gun whir to life, his recourse was that at least it wasn’t as painful as being branded.

They left him alone after that. To suffer in silence with an odd plastic thing attached to the throbbing pain in his neck. With no one left to see him, Galo let himself cry quietly. Tiny trickles of tears tracked down his face and puddled on the floor by his feet. He was tired of hurting and being hungry and alone. When his tears dried he was able to get a good look at the room around him. It wasn’t what he considered a room appropriate to house a dangerous Prometh criminal. There was little to see. The floor was wooden, the walls and ceiling the same pale white. No windows for potential escape, and no way to tell the time either. No furniture. At least the light embedded in the ceiling wasn’t buzzing. Galo’s stomach growled again, louder than before, and he groaned at the discomfort. Ignis had taught him a few mental techniques to get his mind off of the feeling- or at least tried to. Galo was decidedly hard to teach- so he tried his hardest to do them while hanging there. Unfortunately, it seemed to end the way many of his attempts had previously. He was still just as hungry as he was before.

Galo sighed, and resigned himself to hanging there a little while longer.

Eventually, the door was pushed open and Galo’s three captors stepped inside. The little one with the blond hair was flanked by the same two as before. He assessed his handiwork on the back of Galo’s neck. Whatever results he saw there seemed to please him, if the smug look on his face was anything to go by.

“You.” He said, in stilted Promish. “You’re mine. You fight? You don’t eat.”

As if to prove a point, Galo’s stomach cramped horribly. It was swiftly reaching a point where he knew he’d be dizzy if he stood. Not to mention the numb feeling in his arms and fingers. He nodded tersely, face crinkled in a tight scowl. The two men on either side of him transformed again, bodies encased in that terrible armour, then released Galo from his shackles.

Immediately his knees gave out and he dropped to the floor in a painful heap. The blood rushing to his joints made them tingle horribly. He rubbed them hard, trying to get normal feeling back into his arms and hands. As he was massaging out his shoulders, a bowl was set in front of him. Just rice and some kind of steamed fish; no utensils either, not that Galo would have expected any, considering his penchant for improvised weapons. He reached out to start eating immediately, but was stopped short by a boot digging into his hand.

“Say ‘thank you’.” Said the green haired man.

Sucking up his pride, Galo bit out a “thank you”, but the boot didn’t move.

“In Burnish.”

“I don’t know it in Burnish!” Galo snapped, then winced as the heel pressing on his hand pushed down harder.

The man said something in Burnish. “Repeat. Thank you.” Then the word again.

“Thank you.” Galo repeated as instructed, the foreign word heavy on his tongue.

Satisfied, he removed his foot and Galo began to eat. It was degrading to eat with his hands but no more so than being branded and tattooed against his will. When he was done, a cup of water was handed to him. The cup was thin and plastic, probably shatter-proof too. He finished it in two desperate gulps. Another word was taught to him the same way.

“Please.” He said, in Burnish. “Thank you.” He said again when the cup was refilled.

With food and water in his stomach, Galo felt more human again. The Burnish men seemed pleased with him too. They removed the cup and bowl and left him alone once more, but at least he wasn’t hanging like a piece of meat. The minutes turned into hours and with nothing to do, Galo ran through a few exercises. Nothing that would exhaust him or dehydrate him with no guarantee of when his captors would return. But gods was he bored. He was not meant for captivity, Galo decided, while he was anxiously bouncing his knee. It was going to drive him up the walls. By the time the doors opened again for his next meal, Galo was itching to do something- even if it meant fighting his captors. Thankfully they seemed to sense his growing frustration, or they were monitoring him, and after eating he found himself with an electronic shackle. The one with the midnight blue-black hair clamped it around his ankle, where it beeped happily. It closed with a quiet click and the seam appeared to vanish before his eyes.

“Don’t fight. Follow.” Said their leader.

So Galo did.

His first impression of the Burnish palace was that it was plain and boring, with no personality. It was probably a place to house diplomats and not the royalty themselves. Galo thought as he was shuffled from corridor to corridor. No one was really sure what kind of leadership the Burnish had. Galo was just assuming it was succession based, because that seemed to be the sort of people they were. At least he was finally able to glean the time from the windows they passed. It was late evening. The sun was setting, dying the sky a brilliant amber colour. Galo could still smell burning in the air.

Their destination was a large hall-like room that was lined with bunk beds, one stacked on top of the other, with a communal shower room in the back. Both rooms were completely empty and so clean that they looked hardly lived in.

“Clean.” Said the Burnish man.

“Clean what?” Galo asked back.

“Clean you!” He gave Galo a look that spoke volumes. Specifically about what he thought of Galo’s intellect.

They stayed along the back wall while Galo showered. The spray was lukewarm, which he was glad of. If it had been frigid he probably would have complained louder than the quiet grumbling he was doing. At first he had hoped that the shackle wasn’t waterproof and would short out in the spray, but it didn’t. Instead Galo stayed under the water for as long as possible. At least up until his Burnish captors started making impatient noises from where they stood. He rinsed the last of the soap from his body and a giant towel was thrown at him. He complained in faked whispers that it was a little scratchy. The least he could do was irritate his jailers. When he searched for his clothes, however, they had vanished. One of the Burnish men was gone too, presumably to dispose of the charred remains of his trousers. The little sticky bit of plastic on the back of his neck was replaced quickly, now that he was clean. The pain had turned into a dull ache. He hadn’t expected it to heal so quickly but perhaps, he thought, the Burnish had some kind of healing technologies that the Prometh didn’t.

“Come.” He was told again.

“What? Not even any underwear?”

His only reply was a sly smirk and a quirk of the blond’s head. Galo continued to grumble but followed anyway. His nakedness didn’t bother him as much as the threat of punishment, but he used a hand to cover himself as he walked anyway. He caught glimpses of other people here and there; brief moments of others just as stark naked as he was, others dressed only in transparent cloth that hung obscenely from their bodies. Few and far between were those fully dressed. They bowed their heads to the blond haired man as they passed. Galo wondered just what sort of man he had fallen into the clutches of.

He was more than a head shorter than Galo, dressed in smooth black leather that looked well taken care of. Silver jewelry glittered in his ears and on his fingers. His eyes were a deep purple that he’d never seen on a human before. When they caught the light they were almost pink, dashed with gold. He was the kind of man Galo would have been smitten with had he not held the reigns to Galo’s freedom.

Their two escorts left them outside of an opulent bedroom. Red silk sheets and curtains; plush throw rugs over dark teak wood floor. The door shut heavily behind them and Galo shivered. He backed up against it. His personal space was quickly diminishing as his captor stalked forward. There was a look about him that Galo didn’t want to name. That feeling of being a hanging piece of meat had returned.

“I’m going to give you a choice, Galo Thymos. You can either submit peacefully here or I can force you into it.” He said, in surprising fluency.

“I thought you couldn’t speak Promish.” Galo said with a frown. He wondered if he’d be able to phase through the door if he pressed hard enough.

“I like to keep people on their toes. I speak five languages, actually.”

A hand ran up Galo’s chest, his long fingers causing shivers to run down his arms and back.

“What will you do if I fight back?” His voice was barely a whisper. The hand had cupped his cheek. It felt like a threat.

“You fought my generals in their armour.” His hand moved to the back of Galo’s neck and began to urge him towards the bed. “Are you a virgin, Galo Thymos?”

“No.” He’d been with Aina before, back when he thought he should be. Before he realized he liked men more and she found she preferred women.

“What a pity.”

Galo hadn’t really made his mind up about what was about to happen. He was under no assumptions about it being gentle or caring. The bed hit the back of his legs and he sat down with a soft thump into sheets that he hadn’t expected to be so soft. Both of the man’s hands caressed his face, then pushed him even further back on the bed. Up against the pillows and headboard. Galo thought that, at any moment, his heart would break out of his rib cage or would surely explode under it’s own heavy beating.

“I won’t promise I’ll be gentle.” Said the man, pulling off his finely tailored clothes. “But if you don’t fight I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

He didn’t want to enjoy it! He didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

“What...what do you want me to do?”

The man smirked. “My name is Lio Fotia. And I want you to scream it when you cum.”

Galo thought he was going to be split open. His hands clenched in the bed sheets like a desperate lifeline. Lio’s cock was too much, too hot, too fast, too big- he was pretty sure he’d started holding his breath when it breached him and hadn’t released it even as it was sliding deeper. One of Lio’s hands was clenched tightly in his hair, pulling it and his head backwards so that he couldn’t muffle his pained noises in the pillow. The other was wrapped around his skinny hip. Lio thrusted again, short and sharp, into him as he settled deep inside Galo’s ass. There was lube dribbling down his thighs.

“How’s that, Galo Thymos?” 

(It was horrible, awful, he wanted it to stop.)

Galo didn’t say anything. He grit his teeth harder, ignoring the way Lio’s fingers were surely leaving bruises on his skin. Another thrust. Galo gasped. His lungs finally sucking in much needed air. He trembled through Lio’s abuse, holding back the noises and whimpers of pain that he wanted to let out. The hand in his hair tightened.

“Speak, dog.”

(Make it stop, make it stop make it stop!)

The heat of Lio’s dick was burning him from the inside. He throbbed with the feeling as it rubbed places in him that hadn’t been touched before. A sudden thrust had him sobbing, forcing those noises that he’d shut down from his throat until he no longer could keep them back anymore. As he gasped and groaned Lio began to laugh.

“Good boy!” 

Lio seemed to relish dragging the panicked, pathetic sounds from Galo. His dick was pressing against something inside him that Galo didn’t want to admit was beginning to make his own cock hard and heavy between his legs.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Said Lio. “Say my name.”

There was nothing that Galo wanted less than to obey Lio’s orders, but the threatening press of fingers against the sore part of his neck said otherwise. He whimpered it quietly but Lio just repeated himself. Every time Galo replied there was a solid thrust against his prostate. The louder he said it, the more direct and powerful the next lunge was. The word began to tumble from his lips like a prayer. A stream of pleasure that culminated in the shake of his legs and the quiver in his hips. Galo shouted his name as he came.

He didn’t quite black out immediately afterwards, but it was a near thing. Lio had forced himself deep inside and rolled his hips through his own orgasm. In comparison he was quite quiet- just breathy grunts as Galo collapsed against the sheets. His limbs had given up the idea of holding him aloft. He fell asleep to the sounds of Lio talking to someone, his hand resting posessively against the back of Galo’s neck. When he woke he was shoved unceremoniously from the bed. He hit the ground in a sore lump and lay there for a moment, wincing. Lio stood above him with a look of disdain and poked at his prone form with his foot.

“Get up. Today is the start of your training.”

Despite the distant feeling of soreness in his rear end, Galo pushed himself to his feet as Lio turned around and strode away. He had already gotten himself dressed and his day seemed to be in full swing. There were stacks of papers in his hands and he shot a glare at Galo when the man didn’t move immediately from his spot.

“Get out, hurry up.”

His harried, stumbling steps took him out of the room. Behind him the door was slammed shut. Galo had no idea what was expected of him, or what was meant by training. In the seconds that he was hatching a plan to make a break for it- stark naked or not- another person rounded the corner at a brisk stride. She had fluffy hair, skin a few shades darker than Galo’s, and beautiful green eyes, and she looked at him as if he was pathetic.

“Galo Thymos.” She said, with a heavy Burnish accent. “Follow me.”

He hurried after her. It was clear she held a measure of contempt for him; but perhaps, he thought, it was more towards his people. Her heels clicked as she walked, her white coat billowing out behind her. Eventually they reached a room that made Galo think of a traditional school, but the few other people sitting on the wooden chairs were just as naked as he was. Other Promish? Galo waved as they walked in but everyone else’s eyes were quickly averted. The wide smile on his face quickly shrank.

“Find a seat.”

The woman introduced herself as Thyma and told them that she would be training them as slaves in their different roles. Galo stood up like a shot, fists banging against the bare wood table. He had suspected that that was their intention, especially after the previous night, but hearing it was a different matter. Rage bubbled inside him like a fountain. Despite being much shorter than him, Thyma stared Galo down. A sudden burst of flame licked up her arm and as she swung it, it became a whip that dashed itself against Galo’s face. He was thrown to the floor by the force of it. Surprisingly, there was no heat behind it. A thin line of blood trickled down his cheek from the sharp blow.

“You belong to us, Thymos. Specifically to Master Fotia. The brand on the back of your neck says so.” She brandished the whip again. It barely missed him, leaving a scorch mark against the floor where he lay. “Act out again and you will be punished accordingly.”

He sat down with a heavy heart. The others in the room still wouldn’t look at Galo, even as he glanced in their direction again, even as he searched for some measure of hope in their eyes.

He was truly alone.


	2. Chapter 2

They hadn’t expected to encounter the rebellion so early into their campaign. Some resistance was bound to happen, of course, Lio knew that when he’d announced to the Promish government that he intended on taking back their land. It was going better than expected, actually. A wave of ice roared past the armoured truck he was sitting in. The fact that they’d developed such technology so quickly was impressive. It was chased immediately by a wide surge of fire. The green and pink tinged flames licked along the windscreen. He took a sip from his teacup.

Lio’s generals lifted the huge mech into the air together, the other Burnish surrounded them, and the man inside it writhed. His strange weapon lay useless on the floor. His teammates lay prone on the floor with their hands against their heads. There was a flash of smug pride through Lio as he watched Meis and Gueira tear apart the white mecha with their armoured hands.

Eventually the ragtag group were chained and bound in their own personal vehicles- to minimize contact with each other, of course- and the convoy set off. He hadn’t come along to actually fight the group, though Lio would have stepped in if necessary. Just the pleasure of seeing the power that his generals wielded was enough for him. As they reached the desert the rumbling of the van made it difficult to drink his tea. He set the cup away and relaxed backwards in the reclining seat. 

It was a little silly, to have what was essentially part of a couch in a war van, but Lio thought he was allowed the little pleasures in life.

He’d fought so hard to become the elected king. Out of all of the potential candidates there had been no matching the strength of his flames. Now, under his power, they were beginning to increase their territory. The last king had phrased it that they were taking back what was rightfully theirs, but Lio had his doubts about that. Not that he really cared. The Burnish were rapidly starting to outgrow the small region that they populated currently and he wasn’t king for no reason. His people’s growth was the most important thing to him.

They stopped briefly during transit to remove the sight and hearing from his captives, then had them strung up on display in one of the palace's prisoner display rooms. They had no way of knowing that the others of their group were almost within arms reach next to each other. It made Lio smile to see. One of them, a man with dark blue hair, was thrashing still against his bonds. Even unable to see and hear he continued to fight. He had quite a lot of spunk for a captive.

“The angry one, I want him.” Said Lio to one of his jailers. They nodded and wrote Lio’s claim down on their paperwork. The others were to be sold off amongst the rest of the nobility.

Their ranks were thinned out slowly. The older gentleman with the tattoos was picked first, then the two girls, then a large man with impressive strength, and finally the remaining of man of the group. It left Lio- and his guards- alone with the still struggling man.

“What was his name?” He asked.

“Galo Thymos. That’s what our intelligence says; he also shouted it a couple of times during the fight.”

They left Galo alone for a while to stew, and to calm down a little, and when Lio returned he brought Meis and Gueira with him. The branding went well, he thought. The triangle symbol of the Burnish slaves was forever scarred into the back of Galo’s neck. He’d even used his own fire in order to do it- if Galo could ever know the honor behind such an act, he was sure he’d flaunt it pridefully. But Galo was a fighter, that much Lio knew, and he highly doubted that Galo would kneel down and accept his reign. He looked forward to breaking him in.

“It’s not like you to take a slave, Boss.” Said Meis, admiring their handiwork as he applied a thin layer of healing salve to the plastic that would cover Galo’s neck.

“He interests me.” Lio replied. The man’s thrashing had long since calmed down. “I want him to consider me a god.”

After that first day, Galo fought back. Lio had thought that being with the other slaves would curb some of his enthusiasm- give him some positive role models- but it didn’t seem to be working. He was stubborn and argumentative, refusing to even try to speak Burnish. Lio didn’t want a slave that he couldn’t communicate with; that was the point of the lessons. So instead he changed tactics. There was a chance that he could be whipped into submission, Thyma’s brutality with her chosen weapon was well recorded, but Lio doubted it. It wouldn’t be real submission. It would be like muzzling a lion. It still had claws.

The next time that Galo spoke out of line, Lio was there in person. He could see the way Thyma’s eyes narrowed from his position in the back. She held a particular hatred for the Promish people. They had, after all, been responsible for the death of her parents and had nearly been hers as well. Meis and Gueira had rescued her while they were on patrol at the border. They spoke at length of the blackened remains of the little farming village.

With a great put upon sigh, Lio rose from his seat and moved to the front of the classroom. Galo made to stand, perhaps sensing some kind of punishment, but Lio shook his head. “Sit.” He said.

Instead he chose someone else. Lio took his time browsing around the fearful looking slaves. Each one kept their eyes differentially focused on the floor. None of them were Burnish citizens- they came from all over. Some had been willingly gifted from neighbouring countries as prizes for the new prince but others had been taken. Lio chose a younger man, his hair soft and curly brown. It curled around his face in a way that spoke of ringlets if he grew it out. He knew of the man as the most loyal of their newest slaves. Always striving for perfection.

Thyma strung him from the ceiling. He faced away from the other slaves, eyes still downcast, as his hands were shacked in iron.

“Galo Thymos.” Said Lio. “Since you refuse to behave, I’ve picked an appropriate punishment for you. The next time you can choose which of the other slaves will face the whip. You can even look them in the eyes as they bare your pain for you.”

The whip came crashing down with a noise like a gunshot. It cracked through the air before it drew a line of blood from the slave’s back. He cried out in pain, unable to take it in silence. Lio stood at his front, eyes still locked on Galo. A second blow. A third. Tears were leaving ugly wet tracks down the slave’s face. It didn’t take long for Galo to break. He stood up, then seemed to realize it was the wrong thing to do. Lio’s eyebrows quirked upwards. His fists shook where they were clenched tightly against his sides.

Slowly, Galo lowered himself to his knees. “That’s enough!” He shouted, in Promish.

There was no reply, save for another crack of the whip.

“Please.” Galo begged again, but this time, in his weak Burnish.

Lio smirked. He held up one of his slender hands and Thyma’s whip stilled. “There are still four more to go, or do you think you had escaped being punished fully?”

He doubted that Galo knew enough Burnish to properly translate what he was saying, but Lio figured that the idea would get across eventually. He had Galo release the other slave from his binds and gently set him down on his chair. Then Galo raised his newly shackled arms into the air. Once he was in place- arms pulled taunt by the chains that had been attached to his shackles- Lio took the whip from Thyma.

“I suppose we can start early on numbers, can’t we?” Lio said jovially. The whip cracked down. “One.”

Galo was silent, teeth strained tightly together.

“Come on, Galo. Say it with me.”

“One.”

Again the whip fell. Again Lio made him repeat the numbers. Then, after four blows had left their deep marks on Galo’s shoulders, he added a fifth for good measure. Galo cried out, body jerking under the unexpected hit. He was unchained and dropped to the floor unceremoniously. Lio felt he was doing him a service by not stepping on his prone form as he exited the room.

“Call a doctor, get this mess cleaned up.”

Lio had expected marginal improvement after Galo’s punishment, but, a week later, Thyma brought her report. He was apparently making leaps and bounds of progress. They’d moved on from just the language basics he was expected to know and into behavioural lessons. He would slowly pick up more Burnish as they went along. What was more important now was not embarrassing Lio in front of the courts.

He relaxed into the high backed chair of his office. The plush fabric surrounded him with warmth. Everyone knew that the Burnish ran hot. They were more susceptible to cold temperatures. That’s why their country was in the desert. The Promish lands had been too cold, it was like he could still feel it in his bones. There was a pot of tea gently steaming away on the table. Countless hours of paperwork piled around him. There were two guards posted at the doors, keeping an eye on him in silent vigil. Lio signaled one with a hand.

“Bring me my slave.” He said.

A little later Galo walked through the door under his own power, which was a small surprise to Lio. He had expected him to have to be shoved the whole way. Galo even sank to his bare knees on the floor in front of his desk. Lio had to respect that he was trying, even if he was a bit too close. He had to crane his neck a little to see him and it interrupted his comfortable sprawl.

“What do you want from me?” Galo asked, tripping over the Burnish words. Slaves were supposed to be polite. Demure. Quick to please. Lio found he liked a little bit of the fire on Galo’s tongue.

“Come closer. Kneel at my feet.”

Galo seemed to consider whether he was meant to shuffle forward on his knees, or perhaps even crawl, but stood up instead and took the short steps forward. Lio scooted his chair backwards. He gestured for Galo to slide underneath the wooden table, right where his feet rested. That got him a hate filled glare. Galo had surely guessed what Lio intended, but dropped into place nonetheless. The threat of another whipping was probably fresh in his mind; the scabs were only just starting to heal from the first.

With no small amount of wriggling in the massive chair, Lio fished his cock out from his tight trousers. He favoured the look that they had been poured on. It did make it difficult to get out of them however. Galo blanched at his flaccid length. 

“Now, don’t misunderstand.” Lio purred, reaching out with his free hand to grab the back of Galo’s head. “I don’t want you to suck it. Not yet.”

There was a brief moment of confusion. Galo’s eyebrows furrowed with it. Then his mouth was filled with Lio’s soft cock and he didn’t have much time to think of anything else. Lio returned to his paperwork. Galo’s mouth was soft and warm, in just the way he had been craving. There was no huge surge of lust or arousal at having his slave take his dick in such a way, after all that was what they were meant for. More than once he had walked in on his council members being serviced in similar ways. He could even feel Galo breathing steadily around it. Meis and Gueira had been correct in assuming that Galo was his first slave. It was expected of the Prince to have his own household, so he couldn’t put it off for too long. 

Once they were settled in Lio could almost forget about the quiet, uncomfortable noises that Galo was making around his dick. He could forgive him those at least. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Lio called for them to enter. He could feel Galo tense up under the desk and gave him a swift kick with the heel of his foot.

“Don’t move.” He snarled under his breath. “If you even think about putting your teeth on me, I’ll have you flayed.”

Galo stilled again. Lio could practically smell the fear of his threat coming from under the table. His visitor was one of his council members, one of the older men that had had the seat for as long as Lio could remember, and he spoke at length about taxation and the war effort and infrastructure. Long enough that Lio’s attention was beginning to drift away and towards the soft, blue hair that was between his legs. Finally he rolled his eyes and sent away the councilor.

His long fingers dragged through those blue locks. Now that he was alone he could see the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, the drool that ran down Galo’s chin, and the puffiness of his lips. Lio had to smirk.

“That’s a good look for you.” It almost made him want to bend Galo over the desk, but that would disturb his paperwork. “Get me hard.”

Galo made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, as if he took offence to the idea of having a hard dick in his mouth versus a soft one. With a warning squeeze to the back of his hair, however, he began to run his tongue along the warm flesh. Lio sighed happily. Galo was inexperienced, clearly, but it made the actions sweeter. He began to give him directions under his breath, guiding him to how he liked it. 

“Just like that.” He whispered softly, feeling Galo’s throat open below him. “A little faster now.”

Galo coughed a couple of times, spluttered as the plummy head of Lio’s cock rocked against his gag reflex. But he kept at it. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. They seemed to have closed without him knowing it, because he looked up, suddenly, at Lio’s predatory smile.

A shudder passed through Galo’s body.

“Swallow it.” Said Lio, as he shoved his dick to the back of Galo’s throat.

And he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost immediately afterwards, he began to cough and splutter. Lio cleaned his cock of Galo’s drool and the dregs of his own cum with a handkerchief while the man attempted to choke down the bitter-salty liquid. Galo shuddered again, though this time with a grimace on his beautiful features.

“Open your mouth, show me.”

With slender, delicate fingers- Lio tilted Galo’s chin backwards. He opened his mouth wide, eyes watching somewhere distant in the room, so that Lio could inspect him and make sure he’d followed his instructions. With deliberately slow movements, Lio moved his head back and forth. He made a pleased hum in the back of his throat. The longer he watched, the more he could see Galo become uncomfortable. He even squirmed as Lio ran the pad of his thumb against his plush bottom lip. The way his thighs rubbed together, fingers clenched against his skin, and the panic in his eyes made Lio purr.

“That look in your eyes. Don’t tell me you’re expecting a reward, Galo?” Lio chuckled. “My pleasure  _ is _ your reward. Submit yourself to me.”

“I’ll never submit to you willingly.”

“We’ll see about that.” His voice dropped dangerously low, and Lio bent down to whisper into his ear. “It’s only a matter of time.”

🔺🔺🔺

After the punishment in the classroom, the other slaves’ demeanor towards him changed from dismissal to outright hatred. He was the Prince’s  _ pet _ . Galo had expected quiet resignation, or muttered whispers of escape, but nothing had prepared him for them to round on him immediately. There was anger and fear in their eyes as they shoved him to the floor as a group- heedless even of the still healing marks on his back. He had spent some time with his back being patched up in an infirmary, then shuffled straight back to the dormitory.

Things were shouted at him in broken Burnish, Promish, and a dozen other languages. Finally, after someone had wrenched his hair painfully, did someone who spoke more Promish than the words ‘slut’ and ‘bastard’ step forward.

“You stupid?” She asked, in a way that said that she thought he was. “You argue, you hurt! You talk, you hurt! Obey, no hurt.”

“They’ll hurt you, if you fight them or not!” He protested, rubbing at the uncomfortable sting where his hair had been pulled. “Isn’t it better to go down fighting?”

“No! You argue, you hurt. Hurt  _ us _ !”

They were right. Lio had taken out his anger on the other slave, something that Galo couldn’t stand. The others were innocent. At least, they were innocent in the way that they were not Galo’s captors. Having someone else take his punishment made his heart ache.

“Fine, fine. I won’t argue.”

With the wind taken out of his sails, Galo collapsed onto the cot he’d been assigned- face down right into the pillows. The Burnish doctor had told him to return the next day to finish healing his wounds. The scars would stay, as mementos, but the pain would fade. He slept in fits and starts as the scabbing pulled at the edges. The back of his neck burnt in his dreams.

🔺🔺🔺

Lio didn’t call for him every day. In fact, the times he did call for Galo were seemingly random. He was at his captor’s beck and call and every day that passed without being summoned made his skin itch with anticipation. Days of ‘ _ behavioral training’  _ slipped by like molasses in his brain. The movements were becoming automatic. Kneel. Eyes down. Hands on your knees.

Listen.

Obey.

At first, Galo had thought to keep an eye out for an escape route. There were times where he was left alone- no Burnish, no other prisoners- but if he did make a break for it, he knew there was no way to save his friends in one go. They’d be tortured, hurt, or worse for his brash actions. Sure, he often jumped into things without thinking them through but this wasn’t something he could risk. So instead of planning his daring escape he turned his mind to rescue instead.

Somewhere out there, somewhere in the compound or in the city around them, were his friends. He hoped they weren’t going through the same thing he was.

Galo was knelt by the door of the classroom, where his trainer had told him to wait. The classes had changed in the weeks he’d been there. The faces of the other slaves around him had changed. Perhaps they were sold on, he thought. Perhaps they didn’t want Galo to stay with the same group for very long. Galo’s sunny personality was infectious, but he hadn’t tried to make many friends after he’d been whipped. The new slaves in the dorms seemed to know what he’d done before he’d even spoken to them. For now, he was on his own.

It was difficult for him to stay knelt for so long, and his attention had started to wander by the time the door opened again. He barely acknowledged the heeled boots that stood in front of him- he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that they practically didn’t exist to him in that moment- until a harsh hand grabbed hold of his hair and yanked his head backwards.

Ah.

Lio.

“I think I like seeing you on your knees, Galo.” He says, eyes sparkling with delight. The last time he’d been summoned was the time in the office. Under the desk.

Galo represses a shudder. He keeps his eyes fixed low, but can’t fight the grimace on his face when he replies. “I am here to serve, master.”

Lio either didn’t see his expression, or chose not to comment on it, because he released his grip on Galo’s hair. He took his time sauntering over to the instructor’s desk and ran his fingers over the dark, waxed wood.

“Come over here.” He said. “Bend over the desk.”

Galo knew exactly what was coming. And yet, with no other option, he forced himself to his feet and over to the desk. It was low enough that when he pressed his bare chest to the cold wood it exposed him utterly to Lio’s gaze. There was a hum of appreciation behind him. Lio ran his hands over Galo’s sides and down to his plush rear. He hadn’t exercised properly in a while and Galo was getting a little distraught over losing his toned figure. Lio on the other hand seemed to appreciate the extra meat on his ass, if the repetitive squeezing was anything to go by.

“I should spread you open right here and fuck you while the rest of the class come back in. Show them what a good boy you’ve become.” His thumbs spread Galo’s cheeks open so that he could get a good look at his tight hole. “But...I have something special planned for later.”

Behind him Galo could hear Lio fiddling with something in his pockets. There was the snap of a tube’s lid, then the slippery cold drizzle of lube down his ass. He grit his teeth. Lio had said he had something planned, but had he decided to fuck him out here in the open anyway?

Instead of the heat of Lio’s cock, however, there was a cold press of metal against his entrance. It widened as it slipped into him, Lio controlling the slowing pace of it, before thinning out again. Lio pulled it out and pushed it in a few times, clearly enjoying the way Galo’s ass sucked at the plug. He pressed against the base when he was finally happy with it and stepped away.

“There you go, how cute is that?” Lio asked with a small laugh.

Galo didn’t reply, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to the gentle intrusion. It wasn’t quite long enough to press against the pleasant spot inside of him; but, it’s presence made him think of the way he came that first time Lio took him. The way his brain short circuited. The white fuzz of pleasure at the edges of his eyes. The way his body trembled.

“Get back to your seat. After your lessons, you will come to my chambers tonight.” Lio said, and swatted him on the rear playfully. He strode from the room with a purpose, leaving Galo to his thoughts once more.

The rest of the day was close to torture. Every subtle movement he made, Galo could feel the shift and press of the plug inside him. To make matters worse it seemed that the trainer had been made aware of it and was on a mission to make Galo move as much as possible. Bowing to imaginary dignitaries. Carrying a tray of tea and cups to said imaginary dignitaries. It would have been a struggle not to get aroused had he not been surrounded by equally naked strangers who all bore the triangle branding on the backs of their necks.

When he was finally given the all clear to head to Lio’s room, he dragged his feet the entire way. Whatever Lio had planned for that night wasn’t something that he wanted any part of. Galo clenched his fists outside of the ornate door and quietly stamped his feet over and over until he had built up the courage. His knock was quiet, almost shy. Maybe Lio would forget that he existed.

“Enter.”

Galo stepped through the door and sank to his knees. Lio hadn’t looked up yet, busying himself with some rubbish on his table, so Galo stuck his tongue out at him. It was childish but it made him grin. A few moments passed as Lio made him wait even further before the man looked up.

“We’re going to be entertaining tonight and I want to give you a choice. I’m not a cruel master, after all.” The smirk on Lio’s face was dangerous and Galo’s previous mirth vanished. “You can either stay with me for the entire evening and no one else will touch you- or you can offer yourself freely and I’ll let you see one of your friends.”

Galo almost stood up.

He felt like his heart had stopped, somewhere between when his knee rose to push himself up and when the blood had drained from his face.

Lio stared him down, the smirk on his face growing into a full smile. Galo put his knee back down onto the floor. His hands shook.

“It’s your choice.” Said Lio.

🔺🔺🔺

Lio had given him a tiny skirt, and some white leather straps around his body, but that was all he was permitted. It was barely clothes. The skirt was white and sheer, pleated in a way that made it fluff out around his ass- that it didn’t cover in the slightest. As he walked alongside Lio he tugged it down constantly. Every step he took it felt like it was riding further up his waist. There were eyes on him, he was sure, from every person they passed. Galo could feel a blush traveling from his neck up to his cheeks until his face burnt with shame. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Lio, on the other hand, was fully dressed. The fabric of his pants practically glittered as he moved, his shirt was ruffled around the sleeves and neck with lace and layers of white. He had a dusting of shimmering makeup on his face that made his cheekbones look higher and regal. There was even a delicate, gold circlet on his forehead.

When they came to the giant double doors of the ballroom, Lio paused. They were made of dark wood and intricately carved. Geometric flames seemed to roil along the edges. He gave Galo a last look up and down and nodded to himself before pushing them open. Almost immediately, the entire gathering of people turned to look at them. Of course they were waiting for him.

Lio went first. He led the way into the room, making pleasant sounding small talk, and up the steps of a raised dais. Galo stopped by the base of the steps while Lio carried on. There, the shorter man took his seat. He sprawled rather than sat normally. Galo was sure it was intended to be a show of strength- to sit like you weren't worried, like any attack could be fended off by a flick of the wrist. It probably could. He had been briefed on what was going to happen. Another show of prowess by Lio as the rightful Prince. Galo stood with his hands crossed behind him.

(He thought he might be sick at any moment.)

And when Lio gave him the signal- a simple wave of his hand, as if in dismissal- he turned to one of the benches in the center. There were two of them, set up next to each other but some distance apart. Neither was occupied currently but that was about to change. Galo's steps felt heavy as he knelt on the padded braces of the bench. It tilted his body obscenely. Knees spread wide, chest pressed almost to the floor. There were no restraints on the contraption. It made him look like he was submitting willingly to the onlookers. He could hear the breath catch in the room. Muttered voices speaking of the Prince's  _ pet _ .

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Asked Lio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to use emoji triangles instead of my page dividers because I'm posting this from my phone at work
> 
> Forgive plz


	4. Chapter 4

Gueira and Meis often laughed at Lio when he sat on his 'throne'. He was small framed, skinny around the wrists and ankles, and the wood and steel chair dwarfed him a little. Instead of sitting in it prim and proper as he was supposed to, Lio preferred to spread himself out. Like a cat almost. It made him feel confident and self assured- even if his generals at the back of the room were laughing at him behind their hands. The guests of the ball were chattering amongst themselves. He could hear snippets of their conversation about how well trained Galo was. The man in question was spread out on a breeding bench, legs in the padded braces, clutching on for dear life as the first of many people that night had their way with him. He was horizontally across from Lio— giving him a fantastic view of the way his face twitched, but he was too far away to hear the noises Galo would be making.

Lio imagined that they were probably grunts of pain, that his courtiers either ignored or thought were pleasured instead. He doubted any of them would be as kind as he was. Galo had made such wonderful noises the first time Lio took him. In fact, they were still echoing around his ears. He might even have a turn that night.

Another man slid into place at Galo's head, stuffing his mouth full of his cock and almost hiding Galo’s face from Lio’s appraising view. He had to lean slightly to the side to see the expression Galo made. Lio’s body shivered with arousal at the sight of the man’s eyes slipping closed. He could tell it wasn’t from his own pleasure— Lio recognized the courtier taking his turn at Galo’s ass and he was not a gentle lover. His slaves often had yellowing bruises around their hips and necks in the shape of his hands. For a moment, Lio wondered if he should step in and set some boundaries but perhaps Galo would get the wrong idea. Lio wasn’t here to be  _ soft  _ with him.

Below him, inside the pit, Galo was struggling. 

Each thrust into his mouth made him gag— the man didn’t seem to care whether or not he could breathe or if he was going to choke on the cock hitting the back of his throat. His ass stung. More than stung, actually, if he let himself think about it. When Lio took him, he was practically a gentle lover compared to the raw pounding he was getting currently. Boney hips met his already bruised ass. He hissed in pain when the hands around his waist gripped tighter, the hand in his hair pulled harder, and another flood of someone’s cum washed down his throat.

Galo wanted to cry. He wanted to kick and thrash and throw both of the men pinning him down off of him. But, the chance of seeing one of his friends played over and over and over in his mind. The taste of bitter salt was heavy on the back of his tongue. Galo found himself thinking about how at least Lio made him cum. None of the attendees seemed interested in anything other than their own pleasure, and the few times they’d actually struck against his prostate had gone ignored.

He was given a brief reprieve from the assault after what seemed like a dozen of the wealthy Burnish men had taken their turns with him. The crowd began to see him less as a party favour and more a part of the scenery. Galo took a few desperate breaths now that his mouth wasn’t full of cock and pushed himself up on his elbows. He caught sight of Lio, laid out on his throne, with a sadistic slant to his mouth, and turned his head away. He couldn’t bring himself to look Lio in the eyes.

Another stranger’s hand began to caress the blue waterfall of Galo’s hair and he almost flinched away from it before he remembered Lio’s threat. He was supposed to be here willingly. To take whatever these people forced on him. Slowly, the person petting him strode around to where Galo could see him. He had fluffy black-brown hair and a pair of eyes so brilliantly red that you could almost see the fire inside of him. Galo swallowed nervously, then obediently opened his mouth.

The man chuckled. “Boss was right, you’re really getting into to this huh?”

Galo tried to keep his expression carefully docile, even when he realized that the man in front of him was probably one of Lio’s generals. Potentially even one of the people he’d fought in his scrapyard makeshift armour.

“You were pretty feisty before. What happened to all that fight?” He stuck his thumb in Galo’s mouth, pressing against the soft meat of his tongue. “Hey Meis, you want a turn?”

“Yeah.” There was a softer voice from behind Galo, but no less threatening. Especially the way his calloused hands stroked his bruised sides. “You go first, Gueira.”

Gueira grinned down at Galo, before sauntering around to his rear. The hand on the back of his head pushed him down again. He couldn’t hear the clink of the belt buckle over the rowdy noises from the rest of the crowd but he could feel the way the zipper teeth bit into the back of his bare legs. Gueira’s thumbs dug into the meat of his ass and spread his cheeks wide to inspect the loose mess that had been made of him.

“Wow, they really did stretch you out.” Gueira laughed again. He rubbed the head of his cock against the slick, pink hole below.

Galo shuddered at the feeling. No matter how many times it happened, he didn’t think he would ever get used to being fucked— despite the way Gueira was taunting him. The initial slide made him shudder and whimper in pain. He was already raw and adding another dick for his abused hole to take was getting to be too much. Gueira was slow and methodical. He rolled his hips back and forth in a constant rhythm that gave Galo no relief. In fact, unlike the others, he could feel Gueira intentionally pushing against that sweet spot inside of him. It made him tremble, this time from pleasure. His toes curled. His fingers clenched. Galo could hear Gueira chatting amicably with Meis next to him as he kept up the torturous pace.

He didn’t want to beg for it.

Despite his pain and anger, Galo could feel his cock getting hard between his legs. He started to plump, slowly, unwillingly. Until he was on the precipice of losing everything to the gentle roll of Gueira’s hips.

“Hey, Gueira, the little slut’s gotten hard.” Meis says, suddenly reaching underneath the arch of Galo’s body to grab his dick and squeeze as if he was milking it.

Galo sobbed from the sensation.

“Well he’s—“ Gueira’s moan cut himself off. “He’s not gonna cum unless the boss says so.”

He let out a sharp gasp before bending over Galo, the grip on his hips getting just a little tighter before the fluid thrusting of his own became a desperate piston snap. Gueira’s breath was hot against the back of Galo’s neck. Not just hot, but burning even. The Burnish breathing fire when they were turned on wasn’t something Galo had considered before but he was experiencing it anyway. Every thrust made Galo sigh or moan or whine with lust. Then with a loud groan, Gueira thrusted deeply inside of Galo’s body and once more he felt that hot wash of cum.

Despite himself, Galo peered over at Lio—still spread out. Through the curtain of his hair they finally made eye contact. Lio offered him nothing but a smug smile and a pointed glance at Galo's reddened cock. Then it was Meis' turn and Galo found he couldn't pull his eyes away from the Burnish prince. As Meis' cock slid deep into his insides, Lio stood up and prowled down the stairs towards Galo and the breeding bench. The way his eyes glittered in the lamplight made Galo's body tense-- Meis swore behind him, hips stuttering through a thrust-- until Lio reached out. He threaded his delicate fingers through Galo's hair and crouched down next to his head.

"You're so pretty when you're stuffed full of cock." Said Lio, now running the tips of his fingers over the curve of Galo's jaw.

Galo whimpered again, fearing both the idea of turning his face away from Lio and continuing to look him in the eyes. His world had narrowed down to just him and Lio and the sweet press of Meis' dick against his prostate. The tunnel vision meant he didn't even register someone else appearing beside him until Lio began to speak to them.

"Yes, go ahead. I want to see it." He was saying. Then, to Galo: "Keep your eyes on me. I'll tell you when you've been good enough."

Galo barely even realized Meis had finished. He was so close, body shivering over every press of hands or dick-- and especially when Lio closed the gap between them and kissed him sweetly on the lips. It was almost enough to make Galo cry but still he held on.

"Do you know how many you've taken?"

Galo shook his head.

"Shame. I'll make you count, next time."

He wanted to protest the idea of a  _ next time _ but there were more soft hands playing with his fucked open hole. Whoever it was was particularly gentle with him. The hands braced themselves on his shoulders and tugged him backwards into each thrust and Galo found himself losing the last dregs of his resistance. He rolled his hips back in time with the stranger's own. There was drool slipping down the corner of his mouth but he paid no attention to it. There was only Lio and the smack of flesh on flesh.

"Go ahead, Galo. You can cum." Lio smirked.

It was like a spell had been broken over him. Galo's eyes rolled back in his head and, spurred on by his open moans of pleasure, the stranger picked up his pace. In fact it didn't take long until Galo spilled all over the bench underneath him. His voice cracked, almost into a scream, and it felt like his mind leaked straight out of his dick. Gasping for breath, Galo collapsed bonelessly. The stranger also took his final pleasure out on Galo's body, painting his insides with a broken moan of his own.

It took Galo more than a moment to realize he recognized the voice. He looked up, questioningly, at Lio. Then his expression changed from one of confusion to one of barely contained horror. Lio was still smiling. It was a sadistic grin. The cat hadn't just had the cream, it had slaughtered a nest. Galo twisted his body enough to peer over his shoulder.

Mint green hair and small glasses and a heaving, naked chest and a dumb expression on his face that didn't suit him at all--

"Remi?" Galo whispered.

There was no response, save for the softened cock in his ass twitching and beginning to harden again.

"Looks like his Mistress gave him one too many pills. You might be in for a long night, Galo."


End file.
